Let's Play a Little Game Called Life
by cryptographicnonsense
Summary: Kyle catches Kenny & Stan playing Russian Roulette, so he cuts ties with them. Unwilling to end their friendship with Kyle, Kenny & Stan decide to do everything they can to get him back in their lives. Unknown motives & deep emotions.Possible k2 or style


_Stan_

_Click. _It came up empty again. I spun the barrel and handed it to Kenny so he could take his turn.

Another click and spin and my turn came up. We were playing the one game I wanted to lose, but in the past ten minutes, despite my wishing neither of us had lost, we just continued to play.

Click and spin, click and spin; still no limp corpse. Kyle hadn't come to my place today, and I guess that was something I should be grateful for. Taking the gun from Kenny, light invaded the basement, so I blinked a few times to clear my vision. We both froze, eyes widened in shock. The sight of fiery red hair, and emerald green eyes pervaded our view (something neither of us expected). A snarl bared its existence onto Kyle's ethereal features.

"What the hell is this shit?!"

He looked tired, not because of sleep depravity though; probably because Kenny and I brought a whole lot of unnecessary shit into his life. I glanced over to his hands, and noticed they were painfully clenched into fists; knuckles white with rage.

"I'm done with you guys; both of you don't expect me to come crawling back."

His words felt corrosive, as he turned his back to us, and left. With that, he was gone; it was as if he'd never come into the basement to notice are atrocious behavior. I knew this was no figment of our imagination though, for the bitter taste left in my mouth, confirmed this was reality.

I looked at Kenny, contemplating and unsure of what to say. It wouldn't feel right to continue our game but despite myself I opened the barrel and found the bullet ready to be shot.

_So I would've lost, huh?_

I put the gun on the ground between us, not wanting to hold its steel texture in my grasp any longer. We wouldn't be able to get him back now. We hadn't just stepped over the invisible line of our friendship with Kyle; we had sprinted across the line and out of view. It was evident that he wouldn't come back to us willingly.

I don't have a single clue what Kenny was thinking, obviously I'm not a mind reader, but there was only one thing I could think about. I was going to get Kyle back and whether he came back willingly or I had to drag him back with my bare hands didn't matter to me, but I was going to get him back into my life one way or another.

_Kenny_

Staring over at the bullet in the barrel of that oh so beautiful gun, I knew it meant Stan should have been in a puddle of his own crimson blood. I felt a tinge of jealousy, for I thought the bullet would be mine exclusively. You see, I have a bit of a thing for pain; a healthy affinity for that adrenaline release; In short, I'm a masochist, say what you will, but it's who I am. You'd never guess this by taking a glance at my visage; Azure eyes, the color of the sky, flaxen, soft strands of hair that swept the feeling of sunshine across my features, and a long lean physique. I seemed like a perfectly normal boy, although peeling back some layers would probably make a worlds difference. Just goes to show, yet again, that you should never judge a book by its aesthetic covering; inside its pages is where it's true worth lies.

_That really depends on your perception though..._

I suppose, my quarks led to my liking Kyle; everything about him tortured my senses. No one could stir anything real in me, but he could. I'm guessing that Kyle naively believes he's gotten rid of me, but of course just as I see the determination on Stan's face to get him back, I too was willing to disregard his free will.

_Stan_

We didn't play any more of our little 'game' after Kyle stormed out of my house. We hid the gun in some random box filled with old clothes and went up to my room to simply stare at a television screen, uncomprehending it's sounds and images. It was too bad we hadn't run out of the basement after Kyle, now we would have to wait until school to talk to him because he surely wouldn't answer any of our phone calls or let us into his house to talk to him with how angry he looked.

I glanced at Kenny who seemed to be thinking hard about something. I wasn't as close to Kenny as I was to Kyle so I didn't have any idea what he was thinking. With Kyle I could usually guess what he was thinking; he is my 'super-best-friend' after all. Kenny on the other hand, I was never close to; he was uncharted territory. I wanted to be closer to him but there always seemed to be something in the way of our friendship; a brick wall we never managed to tear down. That immovable brick must have been Kyle.

Back in ninth grade Kenny and I were actually pretty close. During a conversation, mind you I'm not really sure how we had gotten onto the topic (probably from our lack of sobriety at a party), but we both admitted that we liked Kyle as more than a friend; since then our friendship has been more of a secret rivalry than anything else. It's kind of sad really; he could have been a second best friend if it wasn't for our competition over Kyle. Things were so much simpler when we were younger; sometimes I wish we had never grown up.

_Kenny_

Sitting next to Stan, I kept in deep thought, carefully going through every humanly possible apology I could muster. I figured going the route of asking for absolution should be the first route I ought to take. Letting my lips play into a roguish smile, it conquered my face, making me look positively mad. Leaning over to Stan's ears I whispered barely audible words in his ear.

"Let the games begin…"

With that I stood up, and left his room, winking at Stan before closing his door. I soon found myself trekking the asphalt leading to my house. It was always so easy to tease Stan, but I guess I should be a little more grateful that he's around. That is, I mean that there was no way Stan would ever judge me for liking a guy, because well, he liked the same guy. He was afflicted with the same love sickness I was. We both, in some sense, just wanted Kyle connected to our 'string of fate'; a single red thread that made saying goodbye impossible. Stan and I must have cut that thread a hundred times with our shenanigans, wondering just how strong it really was. After we would watch as Kyle warily tied everything back together (even though he was well aware of the risk). While we were relishing in our reveries of, well Kyle, he was struggling to work with us; for us. I fully understand my imperfections, and can't help but be a hedonistic introvert. Yeah, I'm selfish. When you're raised in a dirt poor family, and life is a 'look out for yourself' situation, you tend to be a little fucked up if you will. When I'm with Kyle, I feel like I can stop being this artificial version that I put out for everyone, and actually try to be a better person. I mean, if you found someone who you loved everything about (even the bad), and they not only put up with you crap, but helped you fix yourself, would you let that go?

_You don't realize something's absolute worth until it's no longer in your grasp..._

_Kyle_

I lay in bed, staring at my perfectly egg white ceiling. My mind subjected me to a phantasmagoria of both of my friends, blowing their brains out with a small hand gun; mocking death. All I could do to keep the images at bay was to clutch at my head feverishly (even though it didn't make much of a difference). The only people I truly cared about played a game of _clickclickbang, _and coincidentally I walked in on it; what was I suppose to do? (Kiss it better?) Why do I have to suffer through another round of the fifty card pick-up of life, and I'm the only one who has to clean things up. I know Kenny has a penchant for pain, and Stan…well I guess he just doesn't care, but they don't realize that while they can reassemble themselves quite easily….._I can't._ My resolve feels feeble, and shaky, even though I'm fueling it with all my will.

_Dear God, I'm scared to go back, this time they might actually die..._

As long as I stay away, they'll focus on apologizing to me, and won't end up doing stupid crap that's detrimental to them. Don't get me wrong, I'm upset, but I don't think I could leave them for good (good thing they don't have to know that for now).

Sometimes I have these fantasies (not sexual you perverts) where Stan and Kenny actually come up to me and apologize for everything they've ever done and promise to stop their self destructive habits. But, of course, I always open my eyes to find that it had all been a strange sort of day dream. It's kind of like walking in the dessert. When you realize the thing you imagined isn't reality and is just a mirage, a wave of sweltering heat, and a feeling of defeat smacks you right in the face; making you lose all faith that there is ever going to be that beautiful oasis in the distance.

I cared about them too much, to the point where it was unhealthy; this fact was incontrovertible and I was willing to fight anyone who tried to claim I didn't care. 'Cause, I truly did care, even when they did something stupid like this to piss me off; I still couldn't help but love them to death. It may seem crazy, but I saw in them what no one else did. While they did do some of the stupidest shit I could even begin to think of, they also did so many amazing things that made me smile like I was a little kid again. People never really understood them, well they did, but in all the wrong ways. I accepted every little thing about them, and I'm proud to say I personally have known Kenneth McCormick and Stan Marsh for almost my whole life. For now, I'm going to need to shove those feelings to the side, because they are second par to what really matters, and that is their well being, and this friendship.


End file.
